


Betrayal

by MelindaCoulson4



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 1x17, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e17 Turn Turn Turn, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28954527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaCoulson4/pseuds/MelindaCoulson4
Summary: No matter how mad he is he still doesn't want to see her get hurt. One shot during 1x17 turn, turn, turn// What if May & Coulson were a lot closer in season 1 when everything went to hell?
Relationships: Phil Coulson/Melinda May
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> TW: language, talks of blood & injury   
> There’s just something so compelling about philinda when they fight. It's slightly AU. This was written off and on for years. Finally getting around to finishing some of my WIPs....

They're in trouble. In a deep, deep mess with no way out. It's him and her - as it always seemed to be - pinned down inside the cockpit of the Bus, their own plane. And that's just the icing on the cake that has been his day.   
  
When he marched her in here, he never expected the agents outside to just start shooting. Alas, they had and now the floor around them is decorated in glass shards.They stay low and close. He holds onto her as tightly as possible, trying to shield her body as best he can. He has her head tucked under his chin and can feel her hot panting breaths on his neck. The spray of bullets has finally started to die down, but he knows that she was already hit. She wouldn't have groaned in pain and flinched like she had otherwise.   
  
They have a moment to breathe. He isn’t stupid. With the lack of gunfire, he knows that the opposition must be planning their next move. This standstill can’t last long and in this position he and Melinda are sitting ducks. They have to get out, retreat to the body of the plane. Go somewhere with no window access. He stays crouched to the ground and eyes the cockpit door. It's barely connected to its hinges. It looks like a piece of swiss cheese from all of the bullets that have gone through it. He reaches over with his fingertips and pulls it open, making a big enough space for a body to fit through.   
  
Turning back, he sees Melinda's dark eyes watching him. She's sitting on the ground with her legs tucked underneath her. His eyes roam over her body, but he can't see an entry wound anywhere. He knows she has one by her rigid posture and lip biting.   
  
"Where'd they get you?" He asks.   
  
"Bicep," she replies, eyes rolling towards her right shoulder.   
  
"Come on." He guides her out of the cockpit first, keeping a hand on her back to remind her to stay crouched. He knows she doesn't need the reminder, but he can't help his compulsion to protect her. Once they make it into the hallway, he pushes the door closed with the tip of his shoe.   
  
The light is much brighter out here. There’s an obvious tear in her sleeve where the bullet had entered her bicep. There isn't any visible blood, but he can see the dampness of the fabric. His hand darts out without thought, covering the hole. They both slowly stand, backs pressed against the wall. They wait for any signs of movement. The last thing they need is to be peppered with more bullets. The only sound he hears is her shallow breaths. He turns his head and spots her eyes squeezed shut and mouth tightly sealed. She's in pain. She'll never admit it, but he knows her.   
  
His hand is still clamped over her arm. He fights the urge to drop it and step away. All he wants to do is run. He needs to be away from her. From this entire situation. Shield is crumbling from within, but that's nothing compared to the pain of her betrayal. He's so angry with her. She's been lying from the beginning. The moment he'd asked her to join up she’d already been reporting on the team. Reporting on him using her secret line to Fury. 

He can't think about it now. He has to get everyone aboard out of the current situation first. Even Melinda, no matter how much he wants to keep his distance from her. She's been shot and she needs medical attention. If he doesn't march her to medical and patch her up no else will. She definitely won't do it on her own. If it was up to her, she'd opt to ignore the wound altogether.   
  
"Can you put pressure on it?" He asks her. The metal handcuffs don't give her much range of movement, but he thinks that she should have just enough reach.    
  
Her hand hovers over his own, but he pulls it out of the way before she can touch him. "Yes," she replies as her palm covers the wound.

  


* * *

  
  
The group of them come to a halt at the entrance of the armory.   
  
"We're going to the lab," he tells Garrett, gesturing towards May. They've got to patch up the wound in her arm. He looks to Skye, Fitz, and Ward. "The rest of you, clear this out as best you can. We'll need everything we can get our hands on."   
  
Pushing May forward, the two of them continue down the hall alone. They have to get this done quick.   
  
"What's our plan here?" She asks and he knows she isn't referring to her injury.   
  
Plan? They're stuck between a rock and a hard place. They can hold their ground on the Bus and die or come at the agents in the Hub head on and die. It's an execution either way. He has to assume that Hydra has seized complete control over the entire base. That leaves the sheer manpower of the Hub versus the six of them aboard the Bus: two specialists, a technician, two team leaders, and a hacker. The enemy will either flush them out or board them. And he isn't prepared for either one of those scenarios. Right now, his goal is to get the bullet out of May’s arm.   
  
"Garrett's handling it," he says cryptically. It's the only answer he has. And it's not exactly the truth, but he hopes by the time they finish up Garrett will have come up with some sort of next step.   
  
"Phil-"   
  
"Not now," he cuts her off. Talking is just another form of manipulation. If she thinks he's going to brainstorm any ideas with her she's sorely mistaken.   
  
Before he'd been too shocked to feel, but now he's angry. A blinding rage is bubbling inside of him. He has nowhere to turn. Garrett is his closest ally now. That does something to him. There’s a crack in his chest that has nothing to do with his barely scared over tissue. Melinda May a mole. It has him questioning everything he's ever known. If he can't trust the woman who's been by his side countless times, then what is left?   
  
He nudges her forward. They need to move faster. Their window of opportunity is closing in. As they walk, he looks down at her bound wrists. They don't call her the cavalry for nothing. He isn't stupid. There are numerous ways she could take him down, but she's at a disadvantage with her injury. If she intended to harm him, he would certainly be dead by now, he thinks. But maybe not. Maybe there's something else at play. _Could she really be capable of that?_ He doesn't want to believe so, but he'd be a fool not to take precautions. 

There's no time to dwell on what ifs.   
  
Up ahead, there's an open door to their right. It's the lab entrance. She goes through first, but he's right there behind her.   
  
"Sit down," he orders her, all but pushing her into a chair nearby.   
  
He shrugs out of his suit jacket, then turns away from her and goes searching for the med kit in the cabinet. The old metal box is easy to spot amongst the sea of glass jars. He places it on the table next to Melinda and opens it up. Before touching anything inside, he moves to the sink. As he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, he smears her blood all over the creamy pristine fabric. His hands shake slightly at the sight of it, the adrenaline running through his body keeping him too keyed up. He washes his hands as quickly and thoroughly as possible, then snaps on a pair of latex gloves.   
  
His fingers dip into the mess of items scattered about the med kit as he searches for the fabric shears. Once he finds the familiar metal object he turns back to Melinda’s arm and cuts the sleeve of her Shield jacket all the way up to her bicep. He’s able to rip the rest of it away, which exposes the gunshot wound. Streaks of blood trickle down her arm now that the fabric is no longer there to absorb it. Ever the dutiful patient, she barely moves a muscle. 

He pauses, suddenly remembering that he needs an anesthetic for the wound before digging the bullet out.   
  
_Shit._   
  
Turning back to the many cabinets in the room, he goes searching for the lidocaine. It’s the most potent thing he can give her right now. They can’t have her passing out; there’s still a long fight ahead of them and she needs to be alert for it. It’ll still hurt like hell when he starts digging into the wound, but he knows she can handle it. She’s done it before.   
  
He finds the correct bottle, gets a needle, and prepares to inject it as close to the hole in her arm as he can. He grasps her wrist above the metal handcuff and holds her arm steady as the needle plunges into her skin. She turns her head away from him and he knows that she’s struggling to keep her hurt bottled up. Her body stiffens as she tries pulling her wrist from his grasp. His fingers tighten their grip in response. He catches himself before comforting words slip out of his mouth. It would just be pathetic if he shows any weakness to her right now. It’s best to stay disconnected. Instead of saying anything, he picks up the set of tweezers from the kit and begins digging for the bullet. He hears her sharp inhale of breath in response. This was always the worst part: the bullet retrieval, the twisting, pulling, and ripping of skin as you tried getting a proper grip on the bullet. He catches himself wincing right along with her. They’ve both had their share of wounds, but no one ever quite gets used to this torturous part.   
  
While doing his best to ignore the pain that he’s causing her, he becomes aware of another sensation. Her warm skin through the latex, which does him no favors. Memories of his fingers gently traveling the path of her arm aiming to do nothing but soothe her fill his mind. The smoothness of her skin would always drive him crazy with desire. He blinks away the thoughts, doing nothing but distracting him. Those memories were nothing but lies anyway. She was a sleeper and he’d fallen for it - is still falling for it like some kind of rookie agent.    
  
Finally, he gets a proper hold on the bullet and yanks it out of her arm.   
  
She groans painfully, squeezing her eyes shut as the object exits her arm and causes a gush of blood. Despite her pain, he breathes a sigh of relief knowing that the hard part is over. Now it's just cleaning and covering. The combined heat in this room and the pressure of the situation has gotten to him as he clearly feels sweat soaking his back and underarms.   
  
He tosses the tweezers and the bullet onto the surface of the table and goes to work sterilizing the wound.   
  
"That was his direct line, Phil," she says, breaking their silence.   
  
He pauses. He still doesn't know if she's playing him or if there's more to the story. But if she's telling the truth that means Fury is dead and the two of them may be a part of the small portion of the highest-ranking agents left. They may not come out of this fight alive, so if they're about to die he wants to know the truth now. He needs to know everything. "If that's true then it's just you and me left. So come out with it.”   
  
"Fury knew you'd want me to join up. Asked me to keep an eye on you," she says all while avoiding his eyes.   
  
His brows furrow in confusion. He knows that Melinda is a competent agent, but she's the one that's been in administration for the better part of the last decade, so why would she - out of all people - need to keep an eye on him? He thought that Fury trusted him enough. If he had any significant issues, he would've come clean. Besides feeling off there was nothing significant wrong with him. "Looking for what?" He asks.   
  
"Signs of mental and physical deterioration. To keep him updated. It’s that simple."   
  
Well he hadn't been deteriorating at all. He felt a little different, sure. But he knows that his performance has been the same as it's always been. _So_ _what had she told Fury?_ How he requested a physical but nothing significant came of it? How he felt off? Different? Did she tell Fury how some nights he could barely sleep because of the nightmares? She would've asked Fury questions, would've wondered why she had to look for deterioration. That means that...... _she knew._   
  
His stomach churns at the thought. "Did you know about Tahiti?"   
  
Her eyes focus on something on the floor, nowhere near his face. And it's all the confirmation he needs. Her silence speaks volumes. She had known all along. She had known he was dead...not for 8 seconds or 40 seconds but for days and she never said a word. She had the answers all along and chose not to reveal them. She let him suffer as he desperately searched ever since he’d been inside the memory machine.   
  
The weight of her betrayal lies heavy in the space between them. He can barely look at her let alone continue to help patch up her wound.   
  
" _How_ could you do that to me? After all we’ve been through. The years we spent together in ops. After what happened in Bahrain," he growls. All of the times he was there for her and she still went ahead and did this to him.   
  
The relationship that they've slowly built over the years - she just put it through a shredder. All for nothing. The times they went for drinks, shared secrets, provided backup. It's all tainted by her lies. It all means nothing to him now. He would rather she shoot him in the stomach than reveal any more lies that she's been keeping. It would certainly hurt less. He'll never trust her again nor look at her the same way.   
  
"He said you couldn't know, Phil," she says.   
  
_Fuck what he said._ Didn’t he mean more to her than that? Wouldn't she want to know if she’d been dead for days? He bites down on his tongue, desperate for some sense of control.   
  
He'd even extended her a curtesy by asking her to join the team. No one else would've. Everyone else at Shield had given up on her, dismissed even the thought of calling the cavalry back to duty. But not him. Never him, he couldn't let her go. Once the idea was in his mind, he hadn’t stopped reminiscing at the thought of what it would be like to have her by his side again. He’d pulled her out of that solitary cubicle and brought her back, piece by piece. "I gave you a second chance when I assembled this team," he reminds her.   
  
"I assembled this team," she growls finally showing some type of response.   
  
His eyes narrow. " _What?_ " He asks slowly. What the hell is she talking about?   
  
"I evaluated what was needed and I gave the assessment to Fury. He gave you the parameters," she tells him, her voice eerily quiet now.   
  
Another lie.   
  
He blinks and tries desperately to take a deep breath instead of glaring at her and abandoning her right in this spot. To hell with this. Let her fend for herself. His brain is pulsing at all of the lies. Everything out of her mouth is a damn lie. "What was needed, May?" He snaps, nostrils flaring.   
  
Her breathing picks up. "Someone who could repair your body. A technician to reprogram your brain and a specialist to help me put you down if needed."   
  
He can't move. The blood in his head roars through his ears. He wants to put his head in his hands and scream. The entire team was a lie too. All of them there for her disposal in case she decided to take him out.   
  
"Did he tell you to sleep with me too? Was that a part of your orders?" He finally asks.   
  
At least she has the decency to look somewhat ashamed.   
  
On some level he feels it's true, that she had become intimate with him for the sole purpose of information gathering. He could wrap his head around that idea. The two of them together always seemed too good to be true. He had loved her for so long and for her to abruptly confess her feelings seemed strange but he was just so happy. She had blinded him, played him in the worst way. He thought that if anything, she was at least his friend. He trusted her completely. If she cared about him at all how could she ever have agreed to do this to him? He never thought she could be capable of something like this. An act so cruel and heartless.    
  
Tears form in her eyes. "That has nothing to do with it. Our personal-"   
  
" _Personal?_ All of this is personal to me.” The impending headache is too much. All he sees is red at her denial. There is no separating the lies from what is real. “You pretended to be my friend....my teammate. You repeatedly checked up on me. All this time I thought you cared, but you were just probing for Fury," he recalls in disgust.   
  
"Phil-"   
  
He slams his hand down. "You laid in my bed," he starts quietly. "You listened to my fears about Tahiti. You looked into my eyes and lied. You watched me suffer. You didn't say anything as I searched for answers and you knew the truth the entire time!" It's all unforgivable in his eyes.   
  
"I thought you were dead for a week. I wanted to have you back. Fury gave me those orders. I didn't do it for him. I did it for you...to protect you. Phil, you were my best friend." Her voice pleads with him.   
  
He wants to believe her. He feels a pull inside of him, swaying to her side.    
  
His jaw clenches. "Stop it," he demands. He doesn't want to hear anymore of her lies. How could he ever believe anything she had ever said to him? She felt nothing for him. It was all just about the mission. "Was everything a lie? Did you ever really care or was it all an act? Were you just gathering information and it was nothing more than a mission to you?"   
  
"I wanted to protect you!" She says, voice raising in volume. She pauses, swallowing. "If anyone was going to do it, it was going to be me. I didn't want some other agent to hurt you."   
  
He closes his eyes, unable to listen anymore. "I can't believe anything that you say to me. You were just gathering information on me this whole time. Pretending to care. Pretending to," he swallows, "to be..." _In love._   
  
"No, Phil-"   
  
He shakes his head. "Don't. I've heard enough."   
  
"You can choose not to believe me. But don’t think for a second that I would have anything to do with Hydra or any of this mess," she tries to appeal to him one last time.   
  
And that, he does believe. Clearly, she'd never betray Shield. No matter what sort of mission they threw at her.

//

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you enjoyed :)


End file.
